


we found love right where we are

by whispersbrave



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersbrave/pseuds/whispersbrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a fic where zayn, who is extremely opposed to dancing, meets liam, a dancer, and falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we found love right where we are

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple of urdu words in there so:  
> bhai - brother  
> Nikkah - it's a legal term for marriage.  
> qabool hai - i accept / i do.

It’s difficult to be men in the Malik household when the women gang up against the only two men. His father, Yaser, and him are sitting on the sofa while his older sister, Doniya, and his mother, Trisha, are glaring at them pointedly, and the ever helpful Waliyha is sitting on the sofa giggling away.

“You’re dancing and that’s final,” Doniya says, “even you Abba.”

Zayn and Yaser share a look, a desperate save-me look, “Don,” Yaser starts.

“Don’t Don her, Yaser. You’re dancing. What will people say, the father isn’t dancing at his daughter’s mehndi,” Trisha scolds.

“I think they’ll be happy that I’m not dancing. You’ve seen me dance, Trisha, you can’t expect me to dance,” Yaser mumbles softly, and Zayn smiles at his father.

Zayn definitely gets his adversity to dancing and his disability in dancing from his father. Trisha is an elegant dancer since she was a ballet dancer in her teens and his sisters definitely take after her.

“And you,” Doniya says, glaring at Zayn, “you’re my only brother, you don’t have an excuse.”

“I have two left feet, Don. I’m just going to ruin the choreography,” Zayn states quite truthfully. “Dad is a bad dancer, I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Great job, son, throwing your old man under the bus,” Yaser mutters.

“Come on, Abba. I got to save my butt,” Zayn flashes his father a sunny smile.

“Both of you are dancing and that is final,” Trisha says with final tone to her voice.

“Sophia is going to come tomorrow, and teach us the dances. I’ll tell her to bring somebody to teach you, Zayn. Abba, you just have to do one dance, promise and it won’t even be that hard, promise,” Doniya grins.

“You promise?” Yaser says, his nose scrunched up.

“Abba!” Zayn exclaims.

“Sorry, son, got to protect my reputation,” Yaser shrugs.

“Bhai, you know you have to wear sherwani too, right?” Waliyha pipes up, a mischievous grin playing on her face.

“Shut it, little one,” Zayn throws Waliyha a glare which has no heat in it, but still. He gets up from the sofa, “if you want to find me to not torture me for the next three weeks, I’m going to be in my room,” he mumbles.

“Oh, son, it’s not going to be that bad,” Trisha says as she pats his back causing him to stop and turn to his father.

“Oh, yeah, it’s going to be worse,” Yaser and Zayn say in union.

 

 

 

Sophia is a pretty girl and, according to Doniya, she is the best choreographer in all of London and extremely hard to hire. The only reason why Doniya succeeded was because Sophia was friends with Eleanor and Eleanor was Louis’ girlfriend. Zayn adores Eleanor, he does but right now he absolutely loathes her. And he tells her that much, just to earn a chuckle from her. Zayn is already regretting this, when he sees Sophia. She looks like a dancer, and he is absolutely positive that her dances will be hard, will be difficult and Zayn will be the awkward one out of all them.

“Sorry Liam is running a little late,” Sophia says when the girls take a little break and Doniya comes and sits next to him. “He got held up at class.”

“I’ll thank my lucky stars,” Zayn chuckles dryly.

“He doesn’t want to dance,” Doniya says as she ruffles his hair and he pouts.

“He has made that quite clear,” Sophia smiles, “but Liam will change that.”

“I really doubt that, I hate dancing,” Zayn mumbles but it falls on deaf ears as the girls get up and gather in the middle of the studio. So he just plugs his earphones and tunes the Bollywood hits out, and closes his ears. When the time comes, he shall learn to dance, or make a mess of his reputation. It feels like a couple of minutes later, when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and cracking an eye open he’s met with the most glorious looking human being. He, the guy, is cuteness and sexiness personified in one. His face is warm and welcoming, his smile spread wide on his face and his eyes crinkling slightly. But, Zayn can see chest hair peeking out from underneath the white t-shirt he’s wearing under the black hoodie.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks as he pulls his earphones out and looks at the man.

“I’m Liam, I’m supposed to teach you how to dance, I think,” Liam says, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“You think, or you know?” Zayn laughs as he gets off from the floor.

“You’re Zayn, right?” and Zayn loves the way his name rolls off Liam’s tongue.

“Yes, I am.”

“So, yes, I know I’m supposed to teach how to dance,” Liam smiles at Zayn.

He turns around and takes his hoodie off to reveal that the white t-shirt isn’t actually a t-shirt but a tank top. A tank top that is revealing Liam’s extremely well sculpted arms, and yeah, Zayn needs a minute.

“So Zayn, Soph told me you hate dancing,” Liam says, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

“That would be an understatement. I don’t dance, I can’t dance,” Zayn replies.

Zayn is sort of a perfectionist. He is good at the things that he does. He is a phenomenal singer, he is a great artist, and he is a good student – it might sound that like he’s arrogant, but really he isn’t. He just knows what he’s good at, and he works at that to make it perfect. But there are things, like dancing and swimming, that he’s bad at, and he likes to stay away from those.

“Everybody can dance,” Liam states happily. “You just got to feel the music.”

“This sounds a lot like that one scene from High School Musical 2,” Zayn chuckles, “and how the hell can you feel the music?”

“I heard you humming, before. Do you sing?”

“Yeah.”

“So when you’re singing, you feel the emotions, right?”

Zayn nods.

“Well, that’s what dancing is. You have to feel the beats, instead of emotions.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy,” Zayn pouts, as he stands next to Liam.

“It isn’t. Like, your sister is dancing to Indian songs, right? I can’t understand the words, so I just feel the beat and music. Do you want to give it a try?” Liam asks, a soft encouraging look on his face.

“Only because you’re cute. But, you should know I have two left feet,” Zayn replies.

“Believe it or not, I’ve taught people worse than that.”

A couple of hours, and a lot persuasion, later Zayn and Liam find themselves entering a quaint, small shop a couple of blocks from the dance studio. Zayn needed to make up for the bruises on Liam’s feet inflicted by his clumsy movements, and the best way to do so was a cup of coffee and sandwiches. And this, according to Liam, was one of the best cafes in all of London.

“You know, you didn’t really have to,” Liam grins as he takes the tray while Zayn pays the nervous cashier, “Thanks, Megan.”

“I did. You’re probably going to be incapable of walking after what I did to you,” it’s only when it comes out does Zayn realize what he said and a little oh escapes. He looks towards Liam to see a red hue staining his cheeks and a small shy smile.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry,” Zayn fumbles with his apology, “I mean, yeah I have thought about it -”

“I don’t mind, shh,” Liam laughs, “if it makes you feel better, I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

“That does make me feel better, surprisingly,” Zayn laughs as he sips on his coffee.

“Good,” Liam’s smile takes over his face, pushing his cheeks up, crinkling his eyes - and yeah, that is Zayn’s favorite sight in the world.

 

 

 

Liam ends up being Zayn’s savior from the constant wedding preparations.

When Zayn is accompanying the girls on a shopping trip - _because till the very last second nothing is ever complete, Bhai_ \- Liam has a soft hand on the small of his back as they follow the girls around.

When the dancing gets a bit too much for Zayn and he starts grumbling, Liam and him would take a break and sit on the floor against the wall with soft R&B music playing in their ears closed off to the rest of the world.

When Zayn got a little teary eyed after the _Nikkah_ ceremony, after his big sister had said the life changing words _qabool hai_ , Liam had followed him outside the wedding hall and hugged him.

Liam ends up being Zayn’s person.

 

 

 

“Hey, Z?” Liam says. It should be weird how well Liam has blended in with Zayn’s everyday life. How at home he seems lounging in the tiny bedroom of the house that the Maliks rented for wedding purposes - like this is where he belongs, on Zayn’s bed.

“Hm?” Zayn replies, kneeling in front of the suitcase, packing his bag back to Manchester.

“This is your last night in London,” Liam states, and yeah it is, Zayn didn’t even realize how quick the three weeks had passed by. “You’ve never spent the night at my apartment, I’m quite offended.”

“And you propose I spend the last night at your house,” Zayn smirks, as Liam shrugs, “what will we do?”

“Watch movies, eat a lot of junk food, get drunk as fuck,” a mischievous grin spreads across Liam’s face, “make out a little bit, maybe?”

“I could be counted in for the last activity,” Zayn chuckles as he gets up from the floor and plops himself on the bed next to Liam; dislodging him a little bit from his place. “I’m sold.”

“You are, are you?” Liam laughs as he moves to make some space for Zayn. “So, will you miss me?”

“Nah. You made me dance,” Zayn grins.

“I didn’t make you do anything!” Liam says, pouting and throwing a pillow at Zayn, “it was your sister, and I was just doing my job, you asshole.”

“Your asshole, though, right?” Zayn laughs.

“You’re a fucking dork.”

Liam shakes his fondly, as he bends down to press his lips against Zayn’s.

 

 

 

Their relationship changes from being next to each other consistently to being in separate cities and never seeing each other. So they text, and they text a lot. And they try making plans to meet, either in London, or in Manchester. They are trying really hard to make this long distance relationship work - so far, since it’s in the early stages, it’s going great.

But Zayn’s biggest fear is that in a couple of months, when their “honeymoon” phase dies down, they’ll grow sick of each other, they’ll irritate each other because they hardly get to see each other.

They’ve been away from each other, longer than they’ve been together. If that isn’t a test of their relationship, and their commitment, Zayn doesn’t know what is.

“You fucker,” a pillow hits him and Zayn looks up from his phone to glare at the culprit. Louis Tomlinson. Zayn’s roommate and self titled best friend.

“What is your issue, Tomlinson,” Zayn snarls as he throws the pillow back at Louis hitting him smack in the middle of his face.

“My issue is that ever since you got back, you’ve been attached to your fucking phone,” Louis says, annoyed written all over his face as he plops next to Zayn on his bed.

“And?”

“I want to hang out with out you,” Louis mumbles. “I haven’t hung out with you in forever.”

“We live in the same apartment, Lou. I just had breakfast with you,” Zayn glances at his watch, “an hour ago, you clingy bastard.”

“Yeah,” Louis pauses, “but we haven’t gone out since two weeks before Don’s wedding; and it’s been three weeks since you’ve come back.”

“So you want to go clubbing?” Zayn asks.

“Not exactly,” Louis turns to face Zayn, “Eleanor and I broke up, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Zayn will be lying if he said he had any idea where this conversation was heading.

“And, I might have started seeing someone. They were supposed to be a rebound, but - ”

“They?”

“He, he’s a he. Harry. He lives in London,” Louis whispers.

“And?”

“It’s, one of his mates sings at this club, and he’s called us out to London. He wants to meet you.”

“Meeting a friend, you’re getting serious, huh,” Zayn throws his best friend a grin, as he throws his arms around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him close. “Let’s go, then. I’ll surprise Liam while we’re there, yeah? You can meet him too,” Zayn smiles over Louis’ forehead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

He is half asleep and half dead to the world at three in the morning, when his phone buzzes alive on his night stand. He takes pride in the fact that he is no longer a heavy sleeper - having two younger sisters, and a Louis Tomlinson as a best friend would do that to you - but he still has a good mind to tell the person on the other line off for calling him at this god forsaken hour.

Until he sees the name flashing up at him.

It’s Liam.

“Hey,” Liam chirps, as soon as Zayn presses accept.

“Hey, love,” Zayn smiles as he turns over in his bed and stares at the ceiling.

“You were sleeping, weren’t you?” Liam asks and Zayn can just imagine Liam scrunching up his nose. Zayn has this sudden need to kiss the tip of that button nose.

“Yeah, I was,” Zayn replies, “but I’d rather talk you you. What’s up?”

“I missed you,” Liam says.

“I miss you too, babe.”

“And I wanted to hear your voice,” Liam continues. There’s a moment’s worth of silence - too short for Zayn to say anything, too long for Liam not to. “I was thinking, once you’re done, maybe. Nah, forget it,” Liam sounds closed off, and Zayn’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Babe, if there’s something you want to tell me, or say something, you can. You know that, don’t you?” Zayn says, his voice soft and hopefully comforting.

“I know that,” Liam says, sounding like a petulant child. “It’s just, you’ll think it’s dumb.”

“Whatever you say, Li, it can never be dumb.”

“I just - do you realize we have been away from each other longer than we were ever together? And I feel like we have known each other forever. Do you feel like that, Z?” Liam says, slowly as if he’s scared that Zayn would disagree with him. As if Zayn would disagree with him.

“Yeah, I do. You’re my best mate, yeah, and my boyfriend,” Zayn smiles.

“I’m glad you said so. You’ll be done with your uni this year right?” Liam questions.

“Yeah, last year, if I graduate,” Zayn chuckles.

“You will. If I were with you right now, I would kiss you until it was something embedded in all of your thoughts,” it comes out with such determination in Liam’s comforting voice, it warms Zayn’s heart.

“You would?”

“Yes, and I would make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with every sauce that you love on the day of your finals so you could go in with a full stomach so you won’t be nervous,” the grin in Liam’s voice is as evident as ever.

“Sadly you live in London, and I live in Manchester,” Zayn wishes he could have this with Liam. Late nights cuddled up in front of the sofa, lazy kisses shared between the two of them until they fell asleep, messy blow jobs in the shower, breakfast in bed, take out dinners because both of them are too busy being engrossed in each other to actually cook something sustainable.

He wishes he could entwine his fingers with Liam’s when he’s feeling nervous; or Liam to run his fingers through his hair when he falls asleep on Liam’s lap.

He wishes Liam was more than a voice, or a picture.

“Zayn?”

“Yeah, sorry. Got lost in my thoughts there,” Zayn whispers, a little ashamed.

“I know,” Liam’s laugh rings in his ears. “So you didn’t hear my question, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry,” Zayn replies.

“I asked, would you like to move in here with me after you graduate? You were already planning to move to London after, so wouldn’t it be great if you loved in with me? I mean you don’t have to, of course. But I just though it would be nice, something different after this,” Liam rambles on nervously and Zayn chuckles, “you’re laughing, you don’t want to move in with me, do you?”

“No, you knob, I’m not laughing at your idea,” Zayn shakes his fondly, “I’m laughing at you and how adorable you are. Yes, my answer is yes.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Liam says, his voice sounding small.

“Leeyum,” Zayn says, “I said yes, did you not hear me. Yes, I want to move in with you. Yes, yes, yes.”

“Really?” His voice sounds a lot chirpier and merrier and Zayn snuggles deeper in to his blankets

“Yes, really. I love you, don’t I,” Zayn grins.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait,” Liam pauses, “now, sing me to sleep.”

“You’re the one who woke me up, shouldn’t you sing me to sleep?” Zayn says with faux-annoyance.

“Nah, you have a better voice,” Liam states sporting a matter-of-fact tone. “Sing.”

“Alright,” Zayn clears his throats, puts his phone on the pillow next to him, turns to his left and starts singing softly.

Fifteen minutes later, he can hear Liam snore and smiling to himself, he hangs up. After a quick _love you babe, see you soon_ text to him, Zayn feels warm and comfortable when he falls asleep.

 

When he wakes up the next day, he has a text from Liam, _love u more thnks for the private concert woke up fresher than ever. I won’t be able to talk to u tonite tho. My roommate is taking me out to meet his boyfriend and his friend at some club and before that he wants us all to hang I’ll call u when I get back_

_No problem babe go have fun I’ll be right here x_

But, he’s actually running around his apartment looking for his shoe because he is getting late for his train to London.

Liam doesn’t know. Keeping a secret from Liam is tougher than Zayn originally thought, especially when Liam talks about being so far away from each other, and not getting to enjoy the perks that come with the relationship. But, proudly Zayn can say tht he managed to withhold such an important secret from Liam.

“Will you hurry the fuck up, Zayn? Or did the phone sex keep you up all night,” Louis mumbles from his place at the door; his over night bag on the floor next to him. “We will miss our train and then you will have to pay for the new tickets.”

“We have thirty minutes, Louis. Can you be patient,” Zayn’s voice comes from inside his bedroom before he comes out of it.

“You do realize we aren’t going to a fashion show,” Louis says taking in Zayn’s black skinny jeans, and his white button up shirt tucked in to his pants; with his hair slicked back Zayn looks like he just stepped out of a magazine. “You know this is exactly why none of my relationships last. They look at you, and they fall in love with you,” Zayn chuckles at Louis’ comments as he locks the door behind him. “Do you ever feel sorry for us mortals, Z?”

“Shut up, will you,” Zayn shakes his head. “Let’s go to London and meet this Harry of yours.”

“Yes, Harry. Harry is why we are going to London. Not Liam. And you have to be nice to Harry’s friend alright, I don’t want anything to go wrong,” Louis scolds and Zayn just arches his eyebrows.

“You can sleep on the train,” Louis says instead.

“Oh I was planning on.”

“Of course you were.”

 

 

Louis wakes him up ten minutes before they pull in to the London train station; giving him enough time to fix himself up for Harry and his friend who will be waiting for them at the station.

“Alright, Zaynie-boy,” Louis says, as he puts his hands on Zayn’s shoulder and squeezes them, “remember, no embarrassing stories or anything. Whatever you do here, is what I’ll do tomorrow when you meet Liam. Think about that,” Louis says as he slings his bag over his shoulder and jumps off the train leaving Zayn to roll his eyes at the wind before he too gets off.

“So, where is this Harry?” Zayn says, looking around - which is really not that helpful because he doesn’t know what Harry looks like, nor what his friend looks like.

“Wait,” Louis says, as his eyes scan the hordes of people, “there.”

‘There’ is a tall guy with hair long enough to come to his shoulders - just a little, and his chest tattoos on view because of the unbuttoned yellow floral print tshirt he’s wearing and a huge smile exposing a simple on his cheek.

Next to Harry is, Zayn narrows his eyes because no, Liam. It’s Liam, in a grey T-shirt and black jeans. It’s his Liam. It’s Liam with his larger than life smile and warm eyes looking to his left.

“That is Liam, Lou,” Zayn whispers as they start walking towards them.

“No that’s Harry. Fuck,” Louis turns to Zayn with wide eyes, “what if, you don’t think he’s cheating on us with each other, do you?”

“What?” Zayn exclaims, “no, your Harry is your Harry. It’s Harry’s friend. He’s my Liam.”

“Your Liam is damn hot,” Louis says, appreciatively.

“Go back to your Harry,” Zayn sighs.

Harry and Liam haven’t noticed them yet, though. Harry is too engrossed in his phone, and Liam is too busy looking around at the people. And Zayn smiles at the thought of being able to kiss Liam in less than five minutes.

“Zayn!” He sees Liam’s lips move before he hears him, and he just smirks at his boyfriend who pushes himself off the wall and rushes to him. “What are you doing here?” Liam asks, as he hugs Zayn, who hugs him back tighter chuckling.

“Was going to surprise you, but turns out you’re my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend,” Zayn says, pointedly towards Louis and Harry.

“I’m going to kiss you, and then we will talk,” Liam smiles and Zayn licks his lips because yes please.

And it’s everything Zayn has been thinking about since the last time Liam kissed him at the train station before he was leaving for Manchester.

“You’re here,” Liam mumbles against his lips, before pulling away.

“I’m here, babe,” Zayn smiles warmly at Liam before knocking their foreheads together softly. “I’m here.”

“Hi Louis. I’m Liam, Harry’s best friend and Zayn’s boyfriend and I’m taking Zayn with me. Bye,” Louis chuckles at Liam and then Liam is pulling Zayn away from a grinning pair of Louis and Harry.

“You know, babe, you should have let me meet Harry, at least,” Zayn laughed as Liam interlaced their fingers together, letting their interlocked hands hang in the middle.

“Yeah but I want you to myself. It’s been so long,” Liam whined. “You can meet Harry later.”

And before Zayn can say anything, Liam is pressing his lips against Zayn’s, his hands at the nape of Zayn’s hair and Zayn’s hand at Liam’s waist. Both too eager to kiss, and too desperate to let the other one break away.

“Babe,” Zayn chuckles, “calm down. I’m here for the weekend.”

“Two days of only you, huh? You’re not leaving the bed,” Liam says hotly in Zayn’s ear.

“Alright, as long as you stay with me,” Zayn grins as the cab pulls in and they get in.

First, Liam insists on taking Zayn to his place, where they make out on the sofa in front of Captain America.

Then, Liam gives Zayn one of the best blow jobs Zayn has ever received in his life.

After which Zayn takes Liam apart on his bed until Liam is a withering, moaning mess.

Zayn, then, sits on Liam’s lap in the bath tub, his lips attached to Liam’s. The bath long forgotten.

And the last thing they do is that day, is go to the club. Where Liam has his hands spread out on the small of Zayn’s back, his lips pressed to Zayn’s neck.

“I thought you weren’t a dancer,” Liam laughs in Zayn’s ear.

“I wasn’t, until I fell in love with a dancer.”


End file.
